


what you think of me

by Aqua_Artist



Series: love like you [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Reconciliation, hanzo is trying his best, overwatch skins are a thing that is canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-10
Updated: 2016-07-10
Packaged: 2018-07-22 18:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7449709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aqua_Artist/pseuds/Aqua_Artist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Hanzo Shimada does not want to reconcile with his long-dead brother, but ends up doing so anyways, and Mercy is obsessed with changing her outfit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what you think of me

It started small, as most things do.

They were stationed on Gibraltar for a time; Winston had mentioned, in that awkward way of his that meant something was actually quite important, that as Overwatch was being legally reinstated all missions had to be paused. This had not bothered Hanzo at first. His last mission had just concluded, and he appreciated the chance to train. However...

Genji was stationed with them.

A simple fact, he decided not to let it affect him. He would simply retreat away from the group during the day. He was an assassin, reclusive by nature. He would not allow one broken relationship to affect him. He would not; he was strong.

Unfortunately, he did require meals. And that required going into the common room. He snuck in late at night, after most of the agents had retired to their rooms and Zenyatta and Genji had begun their evening meditation. (That was a simple habit he observed. He did not think much of it.) At that time, there was only one agent who frequented the kitchen.

The good doctor Angela “Mercy” Ziegler, as he observed, was fond of chamomile tea and chocolate biscuits late at night.

The first time he saw her there, he said not a word, despite their several missions together. She, thankfully, did not approach him either. She seemed quite engrossed in her research, red fabric of her outfit fiddled with as she read, eyes seemingly attached to the tablet, a biscuit in her other hand. 

The next few days passed in succession without much interest: at first Hanzo found that a pleasant blessing. However, by the dusk of the fourth day, he found himself growing restless. He has not stayed in one place for this long for some time. (Not since before.)

He observed Mercy from his habitual spot, lying against the back wall and eating tofu miso. She appeared more engrossed in her work than usual. Wisps of golden hair floated in front of her face that only he noticed, and purple silk flowed down the chair on either side of her.

Strange. Perhaps a new supply had come in with a different color.

(It started small, as most things do.)

The evening after that he sat at the table, across from her seat, constantly watching the corridor to see her approach. At 2315, perfectly on schedule, she walked down the hall, reading as her light steps echoed up and down in the stillness of the nighttime.

“Hello, Hanzo,” she says in soft greeting, as though his routine has always been to sit at the table instead of carefully watching from shadows. 

“Greetings, Doctor,” he replies stiffly, not turning back to his meal until after she sat down.

“How have you been?” she asks in that sweetly controlled voice of hers. “We have missed you during practice.”

“The team will manage,” he says, ignoring her first question. “You know I work best by myself.”

She hums intently, looking at him with the corner of her mouth quirked. He knows this look and distrusts it. He knows she is studying him; he provides no further information and simply finishes eating, this night leaving before she does.

~

“Good evening,” she says the next night, and she’s managed to catch him off guard, which frustrates Hanzo. He looks up at her; she appears different again this night, but in a way he can’t quite discern. She’s glowing in an almost angelic manner; everything about her is soft and warm.

He wishes he could trust her.

“The simulations have been running quite well,” she starts explaining after a brief pause. If his silence bothered her, she did not let it show. Instead, she turned around to start preparing her tea, putting her back to him.

He does not understand how they trust him.

“However, the team struggles when playing defensively. You should assist them. I know your skills would be of help,” she suggests, a bit more forceful than last night but still not demanding. He knows exactly the angle she is going for. She will keep continuing like this until he joins or she simply asks him. While he appreciates her strategy, he has spent too much time in the shadows to fall prey to it.

“I will consider doing so,” he replies, a smooth lie, and she nods, seemingly at peace as she starts her research. He lingers after he is done eating to wait for her to leave. She never does. Eventually, he slips out unnoticed. He does not wonder what she is working so hard on.

~

“I did not see you at practice today,” she says as he walks into the dimly lit kitchen. Once again, she lights up the room, but in a way that makes him feel ill at ease.

“I did not attend,” he says. A simple fact; yet he sees a trace of sadness and frustration on her face. He knows exactly why. She is trying so hard for him; he knows he should regret how he hides away.

“You should have seen your brother today, Hanzo. He did exceptionally well.”

Genji.

A shock runs through Hanzo, like one of the McCree’s flash grenades.

Mercy continues on as though what she said had no ill effect on Hanzo. He has grown so used to hiding his emotions, he does not blame her.

“You should be quite proud of him.”

“Why should I?” he asks before he can control himself, sharp and harsh and bitter. “You are the one who made him. I have nothing to do with who he is now. Nothing!”

Mercy stares up at him in shock.

Hanzo realizes his hands are clenched into fists.

There is a strange and terrible tension in his chest.

Squeeeakk, the teapot whistles.

“Hanzo-”

He turns his back on her and storms out, each step heavy and loud.

He should not be doing so. He has learned control of himself. Has learned how to stop hurting.

He thought he had.

~

He does not see Mercy again for several days.

He takes to watching Genji’s evening meditation.

He yearns to join him, but does not.

~  
The palette for Mercy’s outfit had been changed from neutral to golden, he realizes on the third day, staring out at the sunset over Gibraltar.

~

On the fourth night, she is there. He does not notice her at first; she blends into the room, cast in deep blue and black.

“Why do you change your outfit so?” he asks, in a suspicious, flat question.

“It’s a research project of mine,” she explains, and he wonders if that is what she has been working on for all this time. It seems deeply foolish to him. He feels a rush of anger at her, for bringing back his brother and then spending time playing with clothes. He controls it.

Thankfully, she does not ask him to join practice.

~

As he approaches the common room the next night, he hears her light voice chattering and laughing. He stills, careful, needing to know who she is talking to.

“-shame Fareeha isn’t here, she would have loved to see that!”

“Yes, she would have,” Genji agrees.

Genji.

His brother.

He tenses, knowing he has to make a decision. After all the effort he had spent avoiding Genji, he was here. Right here.

Hanzo could simply turn and walk away.

He walks forward.

“Greetings,” Hanzo says, announcing his presence as he gives a slight bow to both the doctor and his brother.

(Who is alive. It is still strange seeing him. He wonders if it will ever stop being as such. He does not think so.)

“Brother!” Genji says, and the excited burst of longing he hears, even through the robotic mask, gives Hanzo a bittersweet feeling that reaches deep into him.

“Genji,” he simply replies, staring up at his brother with a certain fondness (he is truly alive) before turning to prepare his evening meal. He feels a hand on his shoulder - tenses immediately - realizes he doesn’t have to fight anyone, not here - and turns around.

“I am glad to see you,” Genji said. Somehow, he hasn’t lost his innocent exuberance, despite everything Hanzo has done to him. He fails to understand.

“We have missed you. Where have you been?” He sounds honestly worried then, and Hanzo feels a pang of guilt. A different, fresher guilt, brought on by something he knew he could change.

“Training,” he replies simply.

“You should train with us! There are many agents here, it is nice. They will not mind another.”

“They will mind me,” he says, looking away. He notices Mercy is worried and slightly tense, like she gets whenever there is conflict. He nods at her, and she steps away, leaving him and his brother alone.

For the first time since he learned his brother was alive, they are alone together.

His brother tenses, and Hanzo can imagine the expression he is making behind the mask. Eyebrows furrowed, eyes staring at the ground, mouth pulled into a quirked line. After all this time, he still knows his brother. He knows what he just said has upset him deeply. Yet he does not wish to take it back. Genji does not understand.

“You are wrong to decide that for them,” Genji says, words weighed carefully.

“And you are foolish. They will not truly accept me.”

“Brother, I am here.” Genji steps closer, as if to offer comfort. Hanzo feels another rush of guilt. He wishes he had never caused his brother pain. He narrows his eyes, averting them by staring down.

“I am here, and I know they will accept you, because they already have. You are missed, Hanzo. They appreciate fighting with you. And they trust you.”

Hanzo looks up at his brother, understanding and so very alive.

“I trust you, brother. Even if you do not trust yourself.”

Hanzo pauses, unsure what he has done to earn his brother back. Then he reaches for Genji’s hand. Genji’s cool, metallic hand slides into his for the first time in over ten years.

They talk, simple and mindless talk that warms Hanzo from the inside, until the morning dawn has awakened.

~

He starts attending group practice.

He does very well, even if awareness of his teammates’ efforts, or lack of, can cause problems. He eats with the group. He finds himself sitting next to the cowboy, McCree, in addition to his brother. He is quiet most of the time, but they do not mind.

One night, as Lucio and Lena trade quips and Reinhardt and Hana engage in some hearty, heated discussion, he thinks he can almost trust them.

He thinks almost is closer than he’s been to anyone in years.

~

Practice had gone very well today. Even though Mercy was absent - ‘experimenting’, she had said - the defenders had done well, with Lucio healing where he could and picking up the slack. Hanzo trails behind the group slightly as they make their way to the common room. He hears his brother excitedly discussing a new strategy he had tried today with Lena, and feels at peace. Everything, for once, feels right.

Then Hanzo sees the devil in the common room.

He feels more than sees the flames on her body, feels more than sees himself leaping in front of the group, bow drawn and mouth drawn back in a synchronized smile.

Then, frozen, he stares at her, the spitting image of the devil itself, eerily pale skin, twisting black horns, and fire bursting into wings.

“Oh,” she says, looking at him and then above him. She seems utterly taken aback, as though it is not her fault that the devil itself made its way into Overwatch headquarters. “I’m so sorry for the surprise, everyone. I was not sure if this was successful, but I see now that it was! Wonderful.”

It’s Mercy. She does not look anything like herself, but it is undoubtedly her. Hanzo draws his bow back and relaxes.

“Mercy?!?” Lucio asks, incredulous, skating up to her and prodding her horns.  
“Please be careful, Lucio, those do hurt,” she says, and he grins.

“That. Is. So. Cool!” he exclaims, and the others rush up to her, agreeing. Hanzo slinks back again. Genji is there, arms crossed fondly.

“You were going to protect us,” Genji says, and Hanzo cannot argue with his brother. “Do you know now why I knew I could believe in you?”

Hanzo doesn’t answer his brother’s question.

~

He escapes instead, trying to find the solace he needs in climbing and exploring the island’s many paths.

He stands atop it all, staring out at the place he knows he should call his home, but does not.

Perhaps soon he can. If he has earned the right to call it such.

He meditates in peace for a time, silently keeping watch over the various walks and pathways. He thinks of what his brother said. Why did he care for them? When did that begin?

But the answers do not come to him, and so instead he looks out over the island. It’s calm today; everyone must still be inside, in awe of Mercy and her parlor tricks. He pushes aside a swift rush of anger he feels at thinking of that. Someone is walking, and he must keep watch over them. Someone-

-Genji.

His breathing hitches - it’s his brother, human, fully alive - before he remembers no, this is wrong, he killed his brother. His brother no longer walks around with green hair and overexuberant outfits and a joyful smile.

His surprise turns to a snarl. This person knew who his brother used to be and dressed like him. They came here to torment Hanzo with what he has lost.

The death he will give them will be too kind.

He drops down from his perch at the top of the island and creeps his way over to the imposter. He is cautious and silent. He goes unnoticed. He is an assassin-

They walk exactly as his brother once walked.

He stumbles, and then curses himself. But they have not noticed. And he is so very close.

His mouth hardens into a sharp, steady line.

“You should not have come here to disrespect me in this way.”

His bow is drawn.

“Perish by the dragon’s hand!”

His dragons are called to him; the power builds inside.

“Ryuu ga waga teki wo kur-”

-Genji.

Hanzo freezes

Genji.

He’s staring into the eyes of his brother.

Genji’s turned to look at him - mouth open, frozen in fear. Hanzo is shocked to his very core - he has seen that fear on his brother’s face before.

But that’s how he is sure it is his brother.

“Genji,” he breathes.

The bow falls from his hands.

“You’re - here.”

His brother, his brother does nothing, still frozen, and Hanzo rushes over to him. His brother looks exactly the same as he did on the day he - but he is alive. And here. And human again.

“Genji,” he says, and his brother looks down at him. “You’re human.”

“I thought you would not be pleased to see me as such. You were the one who took this away from me.”

“-I did not think it could be you,” Hanzo says, but it does not register with his brother, and that cuts into his heart.

His brother thought he was going to kill him. (Again.)

“I did not want to live again. After I was brought back.”

“I wished myself to die.”

“Do you wish the same?”

“...Yes,” Hanzo admits, and he sees his brother’s face tighten and then relax, as though horrible truth one has always known had just been admitted.

Oh. Oh, no.

“I also wished that I had died,” Hanzo admits, because he would never wish for his brother to be dead, never, never again, and he had spent so many years hating himself for what he had done.

Genji blinks at him.

“Brother?” he asks.

“I am deeply glad to see you whole again,” Hanzo tells his brother, and he sees Genji’s face light up right before he is pulled into a hug, full-body, hearing Genji’s heart beat once again.

“How is this so?” he asks, finally believing it enough that he can wonder how it came to pass.

“Mercy did this,” Genji explains, grinning. “She’s spent months experimenting on a way to change people by altering their outer appearance - ‘skins’, she calls these.”

Oh. The anger Hanzo has held inside him towards Mercy evaporates. She did all of that so that Genji would appear exactly as he did before she started helping him.

And he is so, so very thankful.

“Never mind that, I do not care how,” Hanzo says to his brother. “As long as you are alive, I can be,” he pauses, unsure how to admit this, “happy.”

Genji laughs, a pure, joyous laugh at how foreign the word sounds when Hanzo says it, and Hanzo cannot help but join him.

They are, truly, together.

Hanzo decides he never wants that to change.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! When I saw the young Genji skin, I just couldn't get this idea out of my head. I'm thinking of writing some more in this verse - if you would like to read more or have any ideas/suggestions, please let me know!
> 
> Edit: Also if you want to yell about Overwatch, feel free to hit me up at your-bucky.tumblr.com!


End file.
